


#15

by foramomentonly



Series: Meet Ugly Drabbles and Fics [8]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Malex, Teen Malex, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foramomentonly/pseuds/foramomentonly
Summary: Prompt: I step out of the bathroom and right into the middle of a bar fight and you punch me accidentally so I punch back on instinct
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Meet Ugly Drabbles and Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773934
Comments: 21
Kudos: 115





	#15

Michael ambles out of the quaint guest bathroom of Kyle Valenti’s house, jacket pockets full of bars of soap and travel-sized toiletries, and is met with a literal sucker punch to the face. His head snaps to the side, cheekbone instantly throbbing and a sharp sting indicating a cut high on his face, probably from a ring. 

“The  _ fuck _ !” he shouts.

Granted, he wasn’t invited to this house party, but neither was half of New Roswell High and they’re still here; even given the fact that he just helped himself to Kyle’s dad’s stash of Irish Spring, it seems excessive. He throws a fist out wildly in retaliation, knuckles sliding off center, but connecting nonetheless with the side of someone’s face. The person grunts in pain, and Michael grins smugly before he fully registers the scene before him. Alex Manes is rubbing his jaw, tongue darting out to soothe a split lower lip Michael couldn’t possibly have caused. Behind him Michael hears a gleeful voice shout, “Thanks, Guerin!” and he turns to see Kyle Valenti and a couple of his douchey friends escaping down the hall. Alex glowers at their retreating forms, then his gaze slides over to Michael, dark eyes guarded, but soft.

“Sorry, man,” he says. “You all right?”

Michael stares at him in horror. Alex’s jaw is slightly pink already, and he lets out a small groan as he probes the no doubt tender area inside his mouth with his tongue. Normally, watching Alex Manes do pretty much anything with that tongue would incapacitate him—and Michael, deep in the throes of his first real crush and a little obsessive about it, has watched Alex do everything from suck idly on a pen in English to lick the salt off his fingertips at the Crashdown. But now, with bruises Michael inflicted already blooming on Alex’s skin and Alex’s biggest tormenter practically skipping off into the sunset, Alex’s little mew of pain and the jut of his tongue against the inside of his cheek send Michael spiraling into a panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he frets. “I punched you!”

“It was a reflex,” Alex says with a shrug, cuffing Michael on the shoulder. When Michael only gapes at him, shaking his head rapidly, Alex adds with a sly grin, “And between you and me, it wasn’t even that hard.”

“No, but I was gonna ask you out!” Michael pulls at his hair, misses the way Alex’s eyes go wide and his lips quirk into a small smile. “I can’t do that now! I mean, what? We’re gonna tell our kids we got together when I  _ punched you in the fucking face _ ?!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Alex laughs, “we’re 17. Maybe we hold off on the kids talk until after finals, at least?”

Michael blinks at him.

“B-but you’d say yes?” he asks quietly. “If I asked you out, I mean.”

Alex smiles, shrugs.

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “You’re cute and it’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.”

Michael shakes his head in confusion and Alex laughs.

“You’re  _ not _ subtle,” Alex says, a small, private smile pulling at his lips that he tries to hide by ducking his head. “I like it.”

“But I  _ punched  _ you,” Michael whines, miserable.

“Technically, I punched you first,” Alex says. “And harder.”

His own words seem to trouble him, and he steps forward, eyes shifting to Michael’s cheek.

“Does that sting?” he asks, and Michael lifts a hand to his face, hissing in surprise when even the lightest brush of his fingers across his cheekbone triggers a sharp zing of pain.

“ _ Ow _ ,” he whimpers, sounding almost offended, and Alex chuckles.

“Come on,” Alex says, grabbing Michael’s hand and pulling him back into the bathroom. “Michelle keeps a first aid kit under the sink.”

Alex sits him down on the lid of the toilet and fixes them both up with a practiced efficiency Michael hates, washing his own lip and Michael’s cheek with a warm washcloth, dabbing Neosporin on Michael’s cut and, with a snicker, covering it with a Ninja Turtles band aid.

“All done,” he breathes, and Michael flexes his fingers restlessly, resists the urge to cup Alex’s hips and pull him closer. Alex smiles down at him, biting his lip.

“So, are you gonna ask me?” he asks, voice low and husky, and Michael grins lazily.

“No,” he answers, taking Alex’s hand and squeezing reassuringly when his expression falls. “I told you. Not like this.”

Michael threads his fingers through Alex’s, loses the battle with himself and tugs Alex closer by their joined hand. Alex's breath catches, and he slowly pushes his fingers into Michael's hair, the same ring that cut Michael's skin catching and tugging at his curls.

“Are you gonna kiss me?”

Michael groans low in the back of his throat, watching Alex bend slowly, his face and, more importantly, his lips mere inches from Michael’s.

“Do you want me to?”

“Gee, no, not at a—,” Alex deadpans, and Michael cuts him off, sealing his lips gently over Alex’s, sucking rather than pressing to avoid irritating the cut on Alex’s lip. It’s soft and wet and, when Alex opens his mouth and brushes his tongue across Michael’s lip, fantasy fulfillment of the highest caliber.

“A kiss with a fist is better than none,” Alex sings lightly, a little hysterically, when they part, and Michael scowls.

“I hate that song.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes distractedly, already pressing close for another kiss as Michael slides his hands up Alex’s neck and into his hair. “Me, too.”


End file.
